Castle Halloween Bash Fanfic: Time Warp
by CharacterDriven
Summary: Bex and Maddy sneak out of the house on Halloween, all dressed up for Rocky Horror. Things don't quite go as they expect. A one-shot. I mean it! :-D


_Written for the Castle Halloween Bash 2015. Utterly AU. This would never happen. Right?_

* * *

 **The Time Warp**

 **Halloween 199** **4, 10:45 p.m., upstairs at the Beckett family's Upper West Side brownstone** **  
**  
Bex stared at herself in the full-length mirror and grinned wolfishly, her lips a deep red at the center, outlined in black. She looked good. All 5'8" of her, all knees and elbows and not much in the way of hips yet. She surreptitiously admired her newly-blossomed breasts, augmented by a black pushup bra, and she'd gotten some of those English suspender tights from a cheesy shop off Times Square – cheaper and more comfortable to deal with than the whole garter-belt thing, and not as likely to fall down as thigh-highs. It had taken a bit of experimentation to figure out whether to put the panties on over or under the suspenders. She went with over. Easier to take down if she had to use the bathroom at the old El Rey Cinema.

She grinned at herself, and slipped the black maid's costume over her head, careful not to disturb the white pancake makeup on her face. The skirt was short enough to expose the bare tops of her slim thighs.

Maddy was still putting her makeup on. She scowled at her own reflection, then looked at the photos she'd found, trying to re-create her favorite character. "I don't look that much like Columbia."

"Good," said Bex. "Her eyebrows are too creepy." She started taking the pincurls out of her hair, which was deep auburn this week, and fluffed them with her fingers. She'd painted her short nails black. "I wonder how many other girls will go as Magenta."

"You should have done Janet. She looks more like you."

"I don't have the tits, and I'd have to get a wig. You won't catch me going ash-blonde anytime soon," Bex scoffed. She tied the white lacy apron around her waist and pinned the maid's cap into her wild hair.

Maddy had planned to sew a costume, but it turned out that Columbia's tap dance outfit with the bustier was beyond her nascent skills. So she'd bought some striped pajamas instead. It wasn't sexy, but she'd cut a little hole in the shirt just above her nipple. In case anyone wanted a practical demonstration.

She glanced back at Bex and giggled. "Oh, my god, you look so _slutty_!"

Bex put a warning finger to her lips. "Ssssh. My mom will hear you."

"Sorry!"

Bex was arranging pillows, stuffed animals, and bundles of clothes under the purple coverlet of her double bed. "She probably won't even check on us."

Maddy snickered. "My mom's practically psychic. We'd never get away with it if you came to my place."

Kate sat and laced up her purple Converse All-Stars. Maddy groaned. "You're not gonna wear those!"

"My booties are in my duffel," Kate said. "I'm not about to fuck up my stilettos on the fire escape. Are you ready yet?"

Maddy was combing Dippity-Don't through her short, bright-red hair. "You betcha!" she squeaked, trying out her Columbia voice.

"SSSHHH!" Kate hissed.

Johanna knocked on the door. "Katie, I'm going to bed."

"'Night, Mom," Bex rolled her eyes.

"Sweet dreams, girls. Don't stay up past one."

"Oh, come on. It's the weekend."

"One-thirty. I don't want to have to explain to Maddy's mom why you girls can't get up for school on Monday."

"Where's Dad?"

"He's... out. At a meeting. He'll be home when he's home."

Bex scowled. "Right."

Maddy called out sweetly. "Goodnight, Mrs. Beckett. Thanks for the spaghetti, it was yummy!"

"Goodnight, Maddy. Sweet dreams!" Johanna repeated. She liked Maddy, a bubbly, creative girl who seemed like a good influence on Katie, who'd gone through a dark time after a breakup with her first boyfriend. Katie did not do so well with disappointment. Maybe she was too accustomed to getting her own way. Johanna continued down the hall, a copy of the Brothers Karamazov tucked under one arm, because there was nothing like Russian literature to put her to sleep after a long day of depositions.

* * *

•  
The girls primped a few minutes more, and Bex carefully slid the window sash up. "Aw, it's muggy outside," she sighed. "Did you bring a trench coat?"

"I had to steal it out of my mom's closet," Maddy said.

"My hair's gonna go all flat."

"We'll just spray it to death when we get to the theater."

Bex added a can of hairspray to her duffel and locked her bedroom door from the inside, although the lock was just a formality since her folks had a key (which she'd found hidden, and hidden elsewhere). Hence the stuffed comforter. Then she shut off the light, and looked over her room in satisfaction. The silhouette in her bed looked exactly like two sleeping girls with their heads covered. She'd even dug up her old Barbie hairstyling head, and had the red hair trailing over the pillow where Maddy would have been sleeping.

"I am such a genius!" she gloated.

The two girls slipped out the window and climbed down the fire escape with barely a creak. Since the Becketts had a townhouse, there was no one downstairs to disturb. Bex landed easily on her sneakers; Maddy tossed down her purse then hesitated. She hadn't had her growth spurt yet, and she spent more time making cookies than running track. The jump down was daunting. They left the fire escape extended so they could get back up. The fact that neither of them could actually reach it didn't really occur at the time.

"Come on!" Bex hissed.

Maddy jumped, landing awkwardly, and the two girls walked quickly along the tree-lined street to the nearest subway station. Kate put her stiletto booties on while they waited for the train; this elevated her to an even six feet, and she smirked to herself when the other passengers stared at her. They rode three stops, with the occasional passer-by pretending not to notice them as they strutted and giggled in their exaggerated makeup and trench coats. They were fifteen, they were on the loose in the New York City theater district at night, and the world was their oyster, right until they rounded the corner and came face-to-face with Bex's dad. He was walking alone, his head down and jacket over his shoulder, humming something under his breath. The two girls stopped abruptly, and he brushed past, bumping Maddy slightly on the shoulder. Bex smelled booze on him.

"Sorry, ladies," he mumbled, and kept walking; Bex heard him add "watch where you're going," as his footsteps faded away. Bex grabbed Maddy by the arm and they hurried along toward the theater.

Maddy had to trot to keep up with her long strides. "Wasn't that your dad?" she giggled. "Oh, my god, that was so funny."

"Yeah," Bex said. "Funny as hell." She wasn't laughing. She stalked along, shoulders up nearly to her ears, her face flaming underneath the thick white makeup.

Maddy prattled on, oblivious. "We could've been in deep shit back there. I just cannot believe he didn't recognize you. Wow, he must be pretty fu-"

"SHUT UP!" Bex exploded. "Can you just shut up?"

"What? I'm sorry, what did I say?"

Bex shrugged miserably. "Never mind. It's not your fault." They turned left on 43rd and halfway down the block loomed the El Rey theater. The marquee read

 **ROCKY HOROR  
MIDNITE 10/30  
COSTUME CONTEST!  
$25 PRIZE! **

Kate smirked at the marquee and observed, "Looks like they ran out of _R_ s."

The El Rey was well past its prime, but had once been an art deco masterpiece, and was the perfect setting for post-modern anarchy. Its Arabesque facade was crumbling and marred with grafitti, its neon sign was partly burned out (hence its occasional nickname, the E-Ry), with a ragged line of rambunctious costumed fans stretched halfway down the block. The evening was unseasonably warm, and the two girls removed their trench coats and stuffed them into Bex's duffel once they got into line.

They were behind three young men, who were talking and laughing. The tallest towered at about 6'5", in immense, chunky-heeled pumps, and he wore the curly black wig, corset, and shiny black briefs favored by Dr. Frank N. Furter. The one on his left was dressed as Eddie, the biker in leathers, and on the right hunched a very convincing Riff Raff, the malevolent butler with a stringy wig and ragged black suit.

Maddy took a good look at Frank, whose long legs sported ripped fishnet stockings. She whispered, "Oh, my god, Bex, that is the most perfect ass in the history of humanity."

Bex glanced down. She was still roiling with mixed emotions about her dad:

 _She'd almost been caught. He was too drunk to recognize her. She'd gotten away with it. Because after almost two years sober, going to meetings regularly as clockwork, James Beckett was drunk. Again._

She nodded briefly. The boy dressed as Eddie spoke to the boy dressed as Frank. "So, you heard from Kyra yet?"

"Nah. I guess she's history," he shrugged.

Riff Raff snickered. "English history."

"Damien, that's not even funny."

"Look, she's the one missing out..."

"Forget it," said Frank. He glanced up at the marquee, and said, "They seem to have a shortage of _R_ s."

Behind him, Maddy gasped and elbowed Bex. "You just said that!" she crowed.

Bex shook her off. "Shush!"

But Frank N Furter turned around and looked down at the two girls with a dazzling, burgundy-lipped, rather smarmy smile.

His makeup was perfect: not the early Frank, but the Frank at the end of the picture: wig slightly askew, a large fake-pearl choker tight on his muscular neck, black eyeliner and iridescent eye shadow smeared with tears, pathetic, comic, gorgeous all at the same time. He was a lot older than she, maybe in his early twenties, but he was lanky and strong, and those shiny black briefs didn't conceal much. "Hey. Nice costumes."

Bex didn't actually have that much experience with boys, and he was definitely out of her league. She found herself simultaneously attracted and wanting to run. She took a step back and nodded stiffly. "You too."

Maddy dissolved in giggles. "Ohmigod, you look amazing."

The young man smirked and tossed his head, the muscles in his shoulders flexing as he rolled them back. "You ain't seen nothin' yet, Darling." His voice was deep, and the imitation of Tim Curry was dead-on. Bex didn't find Tim Curry particularly attractive in and of himself. But she was attracted to raw talent, and this young man had it.

The boy who was dressed as "Eddie" the biker spoke up. "You girls gonna do the costume contest?" He looked Bex up and down as if she were a slab of meat.

"Yeah!" said Maddy.

"I don't think so," said Bex, although that had originally been the plan. She suddenly felt rather overexposed.

"You should," said Frank. "Hey, what are your names?"

Bex spoke quickly. "Becky. And this is my friend Quinn."

Frank bowed slightly but his look said he knew she was lying. "Well, I'm..."

"He's Frank," broke in Damien. "And I'm Riff Raff. And Mike over there, he's Eddie."

Bex nodded. "Hi."

They made small talk for awhile. This mostly consisted of Riff Raff, Eddie, and Maddy exchanging lines from the movie, Frank breaking into snatches of song as he practiced for the talent contest, and Bex standing off slightly to the side, wondering what the hell she was getting herself into. She wondered whether her dad would be home yet. Whether some murky part of his brain would remember passing her on the street. Whether her parents would be fighting.

She rubbed her eyes against a headache. A group of fans were practicing their Time Warp steps, trying to explain the whole cult phenomenon to a group of passing tourists who had definitely not been around this block before. There was posing. There was laughter. Cameras flashed.

Frank looked over at her and said quietly, "You okay?"

She nodded. "I'm fine. My feet just hurt."

He chuckled ruefully. "So do mine." His shoes were even taller than hers, the chunky heels spangled with silver sequins, and the pointed toes must have squeezed his wide feet mercilessly. He'd gone all out on the costume, but the laced corset-vest looked homemade. His attitude was what carried it. But he said somewhat ruefully, "I'm not really a transvestite."

Bex nodded. "I'm not really from Transylvania."

He chuckled. "Shocked. I'm shocked to hear that."

The line filled in behind them, then finally began to move. She stumbled a little on her high shoes, and he caught her elbow. She stiffened, shaking him off slightly.

"I'm fine," she gritted.

"Sorry," he said. "So, are you still in school?"

"Yeah. I'm in pre-law." Her voice sounded high and childish. No way he'd believe that.

"Brains and beauty," he observed. When she didn't ask, he ventured, "I'm an International Relations major, Literature minor."

"Really." She didn't ask him where he went to school, praying that he wouldn't ask her.

"Yeah. My girlfriend just dumped me because her mom thinks I have a great future as a fry cook."

Bex scowled in sympathy. "Ouch."

"Yeah. No onion rings for her."

She smiled a little. "You got a shake to go with 'em?"

He turned and wiggled his butt a little. "Yeah, but that's not gonna make me any money."

"I dunno, you could go down to Times Square..."

He sneered. " _Hell_ no." He looked truly offended.

She backpedaled. "No, no, I mean as one of those costumed performers. You could be Cute Butt Superman..."

His smile was now genuine, nothing smarmy about it, and it brought out a really charming set of dimples. "Cute Butt Batman?"

"Maybe. Cute Butt Elmo, Cute Butt Big Bird..." She reached out with her maid's feather duster and tickled him.

"Whoa!" he laughed. "Stop it!" He backed away. "Cute Butt Strawberry Shortcake."

"You'd look great, wearing a pretty floral bonnet..." she snickered.

"Oh, God," he moaned.

"It's okay," she said. "I like strawberries."

"Who doesn't?"

Maddy broke in. "They make me break out in hives," she sighed. Her voice rose into a whine. She was also wearing high heels (they didn't go so well with the pajamas) and her feet hurt, too. "Are we ever going in?"

Frank nodded. "They'll open the doors at 11:25, have the costume and dance contest at 11:45, and the movie starts at 12:01 a.m. on the nose."

Eddie handed her a tiny bottle, she took a swig, and offered it to Bex, who took it and sniffed. Vodka. She thought of her dad. She was never gonna drink. _Ever_. "No thanks. I'm on the wagon," she smirked.

Frank waved off the bottle too, and said, "Hey, Quinn, can I ask you a question?"

Maddy didn't look at him, although he'd spoken clearly. Bex cleared her throat. "Quinn! Frankie's got a question."

The line moved forward. Frankie said, "Do you remember where you were when John Lennon was shot?"

Maddy shot him a blank look. "No. Why?"

Bex thought back, quickly. 1980. She'd been almost two years old. Add six years to make herself 21... "We were in second grade, remember? We were doing arithmetic homework at the dining room table."

"Oh, yeah," said Maddy, looking totally lost. She didn't have anything to add to the lie, so Bex continued. "My mom had the TV on. She started crying."

"My mother too," said Frankie. "She played our 45 of _'Yesterday'_ eight times and killed off half a bottle of wine in the bathtub."

"McCartney wrote 'Yesterday', Bex corrected.

"Try telling my mother that," Frankie chuckled. "She has her own version of the facts in just about every subject you can imagine..."

Bex laughed. "Mothers are weird."

Frankie was looking at her closely. "You still live with your folks?"

"No!" said Bex. "Maddy and I are roommates. With a couple of other girls. In an apartment. It's kind of crowded..." she was starting to babble.

The line was truly moving along now, and they were just a few steps from the ticket booth when a town car screeched up to the curb, and Kate's mom climbed out. Johanna Beckett's hair was in curlers. She was wearing pajamas, bathrobe, slippers, white clay face masque, and a scowl that would strike terror into the heart of anyone who chanced to cross its path. Kate was busy looking at Frankie's very blue eyes, made bluer by the makeup. It was a shame he was too old for her. Or was he? He glanced behind her then, over her shoulder, with confusion, and said, "I don't recognize that character from the movie..."

Maddy said, "Oh, holy _shit_."

Bex said, "What?"

A hand clamped firmly on her biceps from behind and spun her around with a squawk of protest. It was her mom. "HOW _DARE_ YOU!" seethed Johanna. She looked over at Maddy. "And you? I really did expect better. I just phoned your mother, she is absolutely wrecked. Come on."

Frankie gave Bex a look that was half-amused, half-regretful. "'Bye."

Bex was so embarrassed she could barely look at him. "'Bye."

Hauling the girls away to the town car, Johanna snapped, "Young man, you might want to consider putting some pants on."

Frankie looked abashed. "I'm sorry, Ma'am." Okay. Not entirely sorry.

"Well..." Johanna paused. He really _was_ adorable. "You should be." They got into the car and Johanna gave the driver Maddy's address, and they sped away into the night.

* * *

Rick Rodgers shifted on his high heels and watched the car pull out. The girl was sitting in the right rear passenger seat, and her big green eyes locked with his for a moment, then she turned away. He watched the towncar receding in the distance.

Damien snickered. "Ha. You fell for that?"

He shook his head. "Nope." He added to himself, "I was just hoping to keep her out of trouble."

Eddie, whose real name was Mike, chuckled darkly. "I'da liked to give her a little trouble."

But Rick didn't notice that (or he would have given Mike hell for it). They had arrived at the entry door; their tickets were torn, and he stalked in to sit in the third row. It was already filled but there were three seats left, next to a pretty girl in a blonde wig, dressed as Janet. She gave him a fetching smile, which he returned.

"Have a seat," she said. He slipped into the worn velveteen chair next to her. "My name's Meredith," she added.

He took her hand and kissed the back of it with exaggerated gallantry. "Enchanté. My name's Rick."

* * *

•

Katie hunched miserably in the back of the town car, glowering at the back of her mother's head in its absurd halo of curlers. They'd dropped Maddy off at her own home without another word. The towncar pulled up in front of their place; all the lights were on. Johanna said, "Do you have a coat or something? I don't want your father to see you dressed like that."

Kate rolled her eyes but kept the truth silent: _"He already has."_ She donned her coat and buttoned it up to the neck. When they walked into the townhouse, her dad was sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee and an ice bag pressed to his right shoulder.

He looked at Katie and Johanna as they came in. "We'll talk in the morning," he said.

Johanna spoke to Katie as she followed her daughter upstairs. "I want you to take those things off and go have a shower. Wash your face, get all that stuff out of your hair. You're grounded for this weekend and the next. And don't even think of telling me that's not fair. It's not _fair_ that I had to run out looking for you in the middle of the goddamn night."

The doorknob to Katie's bedroom was broken. "How did you guys know where we were?"

"Your dad came home and saw someone had tampered with the fire escape." Johanna's voice hitched a little. "At first we thought you'd both been kidnapped. Then we saw the picture of Columbia on your dresser, and you'd left wrappers for your costume in your trash."

Katie ventured a giggle. "Mom, you're wasted as a paralegal. You should be a detective."

Johanna said, "No way. I hate sensible shoes."

Kate froze. "Wait. You know who Columbia is?"

Johanna squeaked "You're damn straight I know who Columbia is." The imitation was pretty-well perfect. "Now, go take a shower, and that entire costume is going out in the trash tonight. Am I clear?"

Katie nodded. "You still mad?"

"Of course I'm still mad! What you did tonight was incredibly stupid."

Katie said, "We were fine."

"You were _not_ fine," snapped her mother. "Where was the nearest pay phone? Did you even have change to call us if there'd been an emergency? Who would you have turned to if that boy had gotten handsy with you? And I smelled liquor on Maddy."

"I was looking out for her."

"You were doing no such thing. You were too busy ogling that boy in women's underwear."

"He's a college student. He was perfectly respectful."

"Right, until he got you into a dark theater. Katie, people aren't always what they seem at first impression."

"Mom, my first impression was that he was kind of weird. But he turned out to be really nice."

"Well, you won't be testing that theory for a while with that crowd. If you ever pull a stunt like that again, I will nail your windows shut. And I mean that metaphorically as well as literally. You understand, young lady?"

Katie nodded stiffly. "Yes, mom."

"Good. Now I'm going to get this stuff off my face and hit the hay, and you do the same." Johanna stepped over to her daughter and hugged her. "You have plenty of time to run around in your underwear. Just please wait until you're forty. All right?"

Katie nodded uncertainly. "Okaaay." Then she looked her mom in the eye and said, "I'm sorry we worried you. It won't happen again."

"Okay. Goodnight, Katie."

Katie closed the door behind her mom and murmured to herself, "Next time I just won't get caught."

•

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Happy Halloween, folks!  
:-)


End file.
